Brett suggested (over Facebook) I post about something painful I am currently going through that is prompting a lot of even more painful self-examination. Whilst I don't think Corrupt is ready to handle my pre-menstrual, explosive, female levels of sensitivity, I found it interesting that he suggested "pain is a gateway drug to transcendence."

I flirted with ascetic interpretations of Eastern philosophy, more specifically, those featured in the Tao Te Ching or Bhagavad Gita. For those of you unfamiliar, general principles present in many Eastern philosophies seem to dictate that attachment cultivates pain and pleasure. In the Indian tradition, ridding yourself of attachment means also that you have to un-identify with your worldly ego in favour of the absolute soul. My interpretation of the Tao suggests that merely being mindful is the route to transcendence. Mindfulness is a hyper-awareness of things occurring in the moment.

How you choose to approach transcendence is often the mark of distinction between varying philosophies, though I would favour mindfulness and being-in-the-world as philosophically and personally a more important developmental experience over the aim of completely purging both pain and pleasure from your existence.

The latter can often lead to philosophical idealism, and radical ascetic practices that reject the world. The former is a more healthy way of being in the world, and moreover, accepting the world as real.

Having done mindfulness training as part of a therapeutic process, there are practical effects to be reaped by having the pain pass through you in a kind of metacognitive awareness. I favour this over a type of yoga previously practiced - the name escapes me - involving prolonging certain bodily positions, until they become painful, and then painless.

Ridding yourself of pain also means ridding yourself of pleasure, and I think recognizing ourselves as fallible, fundamentally human, creatures bear a lot more rewards in this world. Being mindful is subtle transcendence. Subtletly, letting yourself experience pain, and even pleasure, can sometimes be a much more challenging experience than isolating yourself from it.

Nietzsche was the first philosopher to teach me that there is no inherent escape from the prison of false consciousness by practicing philosophy. In fact, very often philosophizing reconfirms our servility to false consciousness by reacting to it. Reactivity is weak.

From now on, my philosophical gentlemen, let us protect ourselves better from the dangerous old conceptual fantasy which posits a “pure, will-less, painless, timeless subject of cognition”; let’s guard ourselves against the tentacles of such contradictory ideas as “pure reason,” “absolute spirituality,” “knowledge in itself”—those things which demand that we think of an eye which simply cannot be imagined, an eye which is to have no direction at all, in which the active and interpretative forces are supposed to stop or be absent—the very things through which seeing first becomes seeing something. Hence, these things always demand from the eye something conceptually absurd and incomprehensible. -- Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals

Seeking objective truth is a variation of the fantasy concerning the Christian-religious ideal of purity. It rejects humanity, and constructs a beyond-human realm. It is a life-denying activity -- as all you Nietzscheans should know. But, I don't think Nietzsche would call himself a philosopher if there was no value in it.

The most important thing in philosophy is first eliminating your perspective, and then constructing it whole again after being humbled over and over - especially by Kant. Be open to discourse, but don't construct your ideas from authorities telling you how you should think, or you will never know why you think what you do, the way you do. Know that you know nothing: Platonic lesson number one. Then acknowledge everybody else knows exactly as much as you - nothing.

This is at once an exercise in humiliation and empowerment. Embrace the power you have with your mind. It is amazing. Evola conquered mountains. It evoked the power of self-transcendence. We may not have access to the heavens, or objective knowledge, or whatever you want to call it, but we have access to ourself and this is where philosophy should always return to.

What bothers me as a philosophy specialist is that too many non-philosophers read Nietzsche, thinking they've struck gold without sitting down to properly digest his ideas in context. For one, Nietzsche isn't a systematic philosopher and therefore people read him like literature. Then, unfortunately, because those readers have never been trained to read philosophically, fail to connect his problems with the solutions that can be found in complementary philosophers!

This is a pity, because one of the reasons I love Nietzsche is his essential connectedness to thinkers like Jung, Freud, or Heidegger. When someone thinks of the illness of society, particularly the problems associated with the ascetic ideal and the current ramifications of liberalism, the immediate conclusion is an active brand of nihilism.

But, the Hegelian interpretation of history tells us that there is a missing link between the ascetic ideal and the historical transition to active nihilism. A reading of Freud would indicate the same shift from pre-modern, psychically whole times versus the era of bad conscience, heralded by the advent of Christianity.

Jung would say that the shift is inherently psychic. Something psychic in us must have changed to mark the shift between tribalism and modernity -- whatever that means.

This is just another variation of Hegel vs. Marx on dialectic. Our society is ill, it is not denied, but the solution remains unclear, and will probably continue to remain a very hazy possibility until man has evolved psychologically.

Over at Deadspin, Will Leitch writes that he can't understand Kurt Warner, but is inspired by him anyway. He's writing about Warner the way one might write about a Shakespearean hero, which I think makes a lot of sense.

Warner doesn't confound me, though. I can understand him because except for being really good at a really well-paying job (and yeah, that's pretty important), he's a lot like me. The one thing I can add to this is that you don't have to have especially strong religious beliefs to be that way. I don't, but I'm still never "nervous in an existential way" because I just find those existential questions completely uninteresting.

Yeah, a lot of people say all that makes me shallow or horrible or evil or whatever, but I sure as hell would never trade it for being deep. I know some deep people, and being deep seems like a horrible annoyance. But maybe I'm missing something. Do deep people enjoy being deep?

Despite my appearance on this medium, I’m generally reluctant to share my pseudo-political, philosophical views with anyone who rests outside of my discipline. Most people are trained to argue, not engage in meaningful discourse, which entails actual re-examination and potential reformation of one’s views. In short, emotivist appeals are often the most effective, and I find the most effective way of arguing with the average person is to present an emotivist perspective on reason (irony noted).

A socialist I know openly espouses employing fashionable issues to reach more people. Populism is intellectually unsound, and sadly the only way to effectively garner attention for your cause or idea. Socialism is sexy because people in their late teens and twenties work low-income jobs and only see piles of debts in the form of tuition; the feeling of unfairness and exploitation permeates them. The yearning for the adolescent urge to rebel is manifested only in a slightly more sophisticated manner politically. Socialism is ironically a selfish philosophy, and something I largely consider a four-year temper tantrum through university.

How is cultivating discourse then possible? What hope is there for humanity if not every man is not capable of philosophy? Does the solution lie in Platonism or in Nietzsche’s perspectivism? I hope to develop my voice on Corrupt by further exploring these questions, in my quest to make meaningful discourse possible en masse.

As someone who considers things philosophically, I get annoyed when people consider legitimate, stand-alone issues as necessarily political. Environmentalism has been the sexiest, new issue on the agenda to be co-opted by the left, placing anyone who does not identify with partisan politics as opposed to environmentalism.

Ridiculous for a host of reasons, but mostly how leftist partisan politics concerning environmentalism is rife with contradiction. For instance, another en-vogue issue is third world development, but I ask to what degree? Environmental and economic sustainability is not possible if everyone lived as decadently as the Western world, but raising this glaring issue is mostly met with emotivist, empathetic responses.

I won't claim to be an authority on the matter, but I wonder why third world development is an inherently positive thing. For example, a mutually beneficial exchange would occur if Western influences were withdrawn from the African continent. A continent ridden with tribalism, and a concomitant culture that does not value rationality, does not stand to gain anything from adhering to a capitalist structure. Nor do we in the developed world, stand to gain anything from industrializing and pumping empty resources someplace that does not even possess an infrastructure of sorts. Logically, environmentalism cannot exist as a priority if simultaneously third world development also exists as a priority.

Giles Coren humorously comments on the classless class-war rhetoric of local moron Polly Toynbee:

The next day, in my favourite paper's always-gripping education section (“Down wiv' Eton!”), there was another extract from the book, in which Dave and Polly had joined some state school kids from Brent on a trip to Oxford (I bet the kids were delighted).

The clichés here were more delicious still. Not only did the word “spires” appear twice in the same short extract, but the lawns, bless them, were “manicured”. Except they're not, Polly. They're just mown. Same as everywhere else. You don't have to be rich, or posh, or evil to mow the bloody lawn. They mow the lawn on council estates too. It's you, Polly, and you, Dave, who are trying to present Britain as a cartoonish, divided society to suit your own arrogant, dim-witted, outdated Weltanschauung.

For as long as I can remember, I have always viewed privilege and excellence not with disdain, but with reverence, delighting in its potential opportunity. The fact that some of us have already managed to escape the dirt gives us something manifest to aim for, and perhaps to surpass. This is a viewpoint I hope readers of Corrupt also share.

Sofia, a philosopher, recently blogged about her ideas regarding free will and determinism in one Q&A session on her blog. (I'm sure she'd be open to any questions any of you have too. )

Alex also states that:

Learning to accept the powers too great for you is part of growing up--but using those conditions to your own advantage and creating greatness out of life, that is a task only worthy real men and women.

How much control do we have over our own lives? On one extreme of the answer to this question is al jabr*: our paths are determined by forces external to the self. These forces could be anything from divine will to the inevitable conclusion if one thinks in terms of what is purely physical: that we are governed by forces that are random, impersonal and inevitable in nature.

There is much to be gained from acceptance and peace with one's self and its nature. There is much to be gained from being satisfied with little in this life. Yet, routed in this perspective makes us unable to take responsibility for either what we do or what occurs to us. We regard ourselves as machinery, incapable of influencing our own programming even if we could fathom it. Believing in al jabr births an apathy that easily causes us to suffer more than we need to do. It leads to a disengagement with ourselves and this world; we do not seek to influence nor improve either.

An example of being ruled by al-jabr is the use of prayer in disease which may be beneficial but is not curative on its own, using it to the exclusion of all else has been terribly damaging. This emphasises the importance of the concept of al-ikhtiyar.

Al-ikhtiyar is literally translated to 'the choosing'. Here is the perspective that our destiny is what our ambition makes it. That we are what we choose to think, eat, speak, wear and do. In its extreme form, it is a rejection of all that seeks to assert that we are indeed limited. From al-ikhtiyar arises the desire for individual freedom, equality of opportunity and fairness that if applied purely can be irrational and indiscriminate in nature. Somewhat paradoxically to these ideas, we also hold ourselves ultimately responsible for our lives and our failures: when we do not fulfill dreams or hold true to the choices we make.

Either view can be pathological in nature. The balance is difficult.

The lesson to take away is to understand what is good for you, rather than be trapped of circles of abstract reasoning: you can only be helped if you help yourself.

*(al-jabr:"the forced", sharing an etymological route for the world 'algebra' coming from the idea of forcing together i.e. reuniting parts that are broken)

Fate, if you look at it from an analytic perspective, is pretty much a dead thesis. If you interpret it to mean that whatever happens, (inevitably) happens, you haven't contributed with any significant information. However I act, when we look back on it, we can always say that "that's how it had to happen." If you'd write it down mathematically it'd look like this:

A = A

Obviously such a vital concept for ancient societies and cultures around the world cannot possibly just mean that events take place, period. It wants to address something else. When Julius Caesar threw the dice and repeated that he'd thrown the dice, he was trying to emphasize something beyond mere events. A decision had been made and no one could change it.

Before civilization as we know it, people were much more aware of their ruthless environment. Fate was probably introduced as a way of communicating that no one could change much of what was going on in life. Death, diseases, old age, storms and wars. All of it beyond the individual's power. And still it's all part of life. At that point you come to accept certain conditions in life, maybe even try to embrace them (compare with Nietzsche's philosophy).

Fate is therefore a two-sided coin. On the one hand it teaches us to accept the limitations of human existence. We can't do much about death, age or hunger. It's all part of our natural cycle. On the other hand it seems to suggest things happen anyway, so why bother doing anything about them? This is a negative attitude, one that Corrupt is constantly waging war against. Learning to accept the powers too great for you is part of growing up--but using those conditions to your own advantage and creating greatness out of life, that is a task only worthy real men and women.

Learn to accept--love--what is necessary, and embrace that which is possible.

Looking for a certain link for yesterday's book review I remembered just how much I dislike Slavoj Zizek. He is in my humble opinion the worst human being alive today. As if his philosophy, worldview and policy goals weren't bad enough, he also seems to be an extremely shitty person.

Now, many famous intellectuals were horrible or pathetic people; Socrates supposedly couldn't deal with his wife, Rainer Maria Rilke refused to go to his daughter's wedding because he was hoping to write a poem, Franz Kafka was a complete pussy etc. etc. Zizek, however, manages to be both horrible and pathetic at the same time, and does a great job of revealing those qualities in this interview with the Guardian. Half the answers could just as well have come from a depressed fat teenage goth girl and the rest are even worse. This one is the most repulsive of all:

What makes you depressed?

Seeing stupid people happy.

However pathetic it is to resent the happiness of one's fellow human beings, I could at least understand if someone was jealous of smart people, rich people or good-looking people; they at least have something to envy and better chances at gaining happiness. But stupid people? Being stupid never made for an easy life and it's definitely not easy in our high-tech world. Stupid people don't have much to be happy about, and it's no surprise that they are more likely to suffer clinical depression than the rest of us. To begrudge stupid people what little happiness they get in their lives and then get depressed over it yourself takes a real fucking shithead.

Some of our readers have recently been wondering what the purpose of philosophers is. Simply put, philosophers are sometimes very useful for knocking foolish ideas out of other peoples' heads. You can ask them deep questions about important things and get the answer you need, even if it's quite unlike the answer you want or expect. To illustrate, here is some guy singing Tom T. Hall's song "Faster Horses (The Cowboy And The Poet)".

Unfortunately I couldn't find any video of the author himself singing "Faster Horses", but to make up for that here is another song in which he tells us about another thing which is important to him in life, and even beyond.

Though philosophy does have its limits. As a humble sailor once observed, “Thar be more things in heav’n an’ arth than wot be dreamt of in yer philosophizin’".

A few days ago I had an interesting conversation with a person whose views of music differ completely from mine. I managed to tease out a fairly complete description of those views without making him so offended or angry that he'd stop talking to me. I have written this brief summary because I find them thoroughly irrational but also interesting.

According to this view, which I call the magical theory of music, the purpose of music is most definitely not to provide something of value to listeners. It doesn't matter whether music provides listeners with enjoyment, something to dance to at a wedding, pomp and circumstance at an official ceremony, or even enlightenment. All those are side effects of music. The only valid purpose of music is to provide the performer with the satisfaction of personal expression.

Music which does not provide the performer with the satisfaction of personal expression is simply not music. Music which does provide the performer with this satisfaction is not music, either, if the performer is also motivated by anything else - whether money, social status, sex, or even the desire to teach someone else that particular piece of music. This is not "worthless music", "false music" or "inferior music" but literally not music at all.

Music must be composed or improvised by the performer. Music composed by someone else, even if radically rearranged, is not music. I did not ask where that leaves classical music, traditonal folk etc. I assume that they are not music, or at best music only as far as the composer is concerned.

The determination of what is and isn't music is not a matter of opinion or philosophy but a fundamental difference decided by cosmic forces. Although the person explaining these beliefs claimed adamantly to not be religious, only "maybe spiritual", he was insistent that "the cosmos" not only knows my feelings regarding sounds I make but is sufficiently interested to decide whether those sounds are or are not music, depending on my feelings. Although this seems like a religious view, I doubt that even very religious people believe in a God who declares something music if He approves of the contents of my heart. There might be some very religious Greek pagans who believe that the Muse of song has nothing better to do, but I doubt it. Thus, "the magical theory of music" seems to be the most fitting term for this set of beliefs. "The underpants gnome theory of music" seems a little too cruel.

Granted, this particular believer subscribes to an especially fundamentalist version of this theory. Towards the end of the conversation he amusingly declared that not only is everything I play "not music" but that I am "not human". But less extremist versions of this theory are remarkably popular, especially among amateur musicians. I regularly encounter bizarre dogma such as a proscription of thinking of musical equipment as an investment in tools, or a belief that aesthetic preference (playing music one would want to listen to) is the only incentive which can encourage someone to do a better job of performing music.

One might wonder why large numbers of people, especially those who have direct experience with music, would believe in such things, but the beliefs do serve a purpose in organizing the social order of the arts-and-culture world.As such, it is important to understand it even if one does not believe one iota of it.

For a similarly uncharitable summary of another popular and irrational theory, see John Derbyshire's recent article on the "psychic unity of mankind".